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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044222">you have magic on your lips and it tastes divine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvx/pseuds/nvx'>nvx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Flight Attendant (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caning, Dom/sub, F/F, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvx/pseuds/nvx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She orders you to strip, right there in the hall way of your apartment, the lights of the city illuminating your skin. She tells you to fold your clothes nicely ad put them away. If you were feeling obedient, you would’ve.<br/>(you weren’t)<br/>Instead, you step away from your pile of clothes, badly walking right up to her. She doesn’t flinch, part of you wishes she had.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Croft/Reader, Miranda Croft/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you have magic on your lips and it tastes divine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/galentines/gifts">galentines</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You and Miranda took completely different routes when it came to dealing with stress. She wanted to nurture, to feel like there was someone in her arms who could feel all her love and hard work, someone who appreciated all she did. And then, when stress struck <em>you</em>, you had that urge to be completely helpless, have nothing else in your hands, moving from one second to the next completely at someone else’s whim.</p><p>So when you return home one day, visibly frustrated, Miranda finds it easy to slip into her dominating role, not the gentle one of the morning or the day before, but the commanding one you <em>needed </em>right now. She orders you to strip, right there in the hall way of your apartment, the lights of the city illuminating your skin. She tells you to fold your clothes nicely ad put them away. If you were feeling obedient, you would’ve.</p><p>(you weren’t)</p><p>Instead, you step away from your pile of clothes, badly walking right up to her. She doesn’t flinch, part of you wishes she had.</p><p>“I thought,” Miranda said, slight lilt to her voice. “I told you to pick up your clothes.”</p><p>You shrug. “I don’t feel like it.” You know it will get under her skin, know it will get you what you want a little quicker.</p><p>“Oh,” Miranda raises an eyebrow, eyes narrowing, and your smile falters a little. “Quite the disobedient little one I have here today, hmm? We don’t tolerate disobedience in this house.” You bite back the retort that <em>this is your apartment</em> and not hers and the teeth on the inside of your cheek draws your focus to her.</p><p>She takes hold of your upper arm, not enough to hurt, but firm enough that you know a struggle would be futile. She pulls you close enough that you hear her whispered question about how hard you want her to fuck you.</p><p>(you don’t want to walk tomorrow, don’t want to feel anything, you want her marks everywhere, purple bruises blossoming against your skin, telling the story of your night)</p><p>Her responding snarl is predatory, her fingers grip you harder, hard enough to leave a mark, you hope.</p><p>She pulls you towards your room, the display of strength already creating a little warmth between your thighs. She sits you on the edge of the bed, then turns to the closet where you know she keeps her toys.</p><p>(you hope she picks something challenging, you can’t <em>wait</em> to be put in your place)</p><p>Miranda takes your chin in hand, her eyes boring into yours until you’re swimming in the blue, drowning in them. You know she’s working out what to do with you, where to start, and you squirm with anticipation.</p><p>In the top shelf of the closet are your toys—vibrators,, dildos, cuffs, anything you or Miranda thought you might like to try one day. You catch a flash of something dusty pink, and hear what you assume is the pop of a cap of lube. When Miranda turns around, you see you were right.</p><p>“Hopefully you don’t mind a bit of pain, hm?” She’s holding a vibrator you’ve had for a while but have never tried. “Maybe this will convince you that you should listen to me.”</p><p>She kneels before you, slowly filling you up with the vibrator inside of you, remote in hand, moving it to a position that’s acceptable for her. You moan as she fiddles with the controls, falling back onto your elbows. Miranda turns it on, a low hum that your hips search out with a wiggle.</p><p>“Are you going to apologise for earlier?</p><p>You shake your head rebelliously, pulling your bottom lip with your teeth as you wonder what’s next. Miranda’s responding grin is positively feral.</p><p>“A shame,” her head dips between your thighs, nipping at the soft skin there before pulling away. “I might have been convinced to give you some adjustment time. But you’ve made your choice.”</p><p>And then you’re stifling a strangled noise, a scream and a moan all at once, because Miranda has turned the little vibrator up to one of the highest settings. You don’t understand the sensations that hit you all at once, you feel the orgasms edging up but, you can’t. The friction is enough to keep you on edge, writing on the bed, and you groan at the realisation that you’re going to be riding this edge for a while.</p><p>“All pleasure, hmm?”</p><p>That familiar lilt, all violence, and you’ve never wanted to hit someone more.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>.”</p><p>“Apologise, and I’ll think about it.” Miranda sits back, inspecting her nails. You stubbornly shake your head and she sighs. “Well then,” she stands, walking back into the closet and pulling out a cane. “You’re going to take ten hits, five on each cheek, and I expect you to count.”</p><p>The first few smacks are fine. Your hips roll down to her leg, but Miranda makes sure you get none of the attention you’re seeking. After that, every hit of the cane on your skin just makes you clench around the vibrator, your counting getting progressively more lost in your moans until she tuts and stills.</p><p>“Only halfway through and you’re already falling apart. Pathetic.” The coolness of the palm that hasn’t been holding the cane is soothing on your back, the contrast from your hot skin makes you whimper at the touch, shifting back to try to find relief, but Miranda removes her hand and laughs at you. “You have five more to go, <em>darling</em>, and you’ll want to count these properly. I’m not feeling particularly forgiving.” Her words make you shiver.</p><p>She starts again, you’re able to stutter out the numbers until you reach four, before you’re nearly crying in desperation, incredibly close but so painfully, <em>painfully</em> far from release.</p><p>Miranda coos at you patronisingly, but the hits halt. “Aw, seems like all that attitude is melting away. You have one more to go, and you will <em>take it</em>, am I making myself clear?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>It’s hissed through clenched teeth, half a sob.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>By the time she strikes, you’re screaming the word, thankful that you have no neighbours around to listen.</p><p>“Are you ready to apologise yet? You may get some relief if you do…”</p><p>Your voice is a mess, half sob half scream, all sense of bravado disappearing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”</p><p>There’s a pause, heavy in the air. The mask Miranda has on fades, melts into her skin. She reaches out and cups your chin. “You okay?” It’s kind, gentle. You nod, a soft smile threatening to break out on your face.</p><p>“I’m fine.” There’s a slip in her eyes, concern rising like the tide.</p><p>“I pushed you hard…”</p><p>You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve pushed me harder. Miranda, trust me, I’m fine.”</p><p>Her eyes gleam, the concern vanishing in a heartbeat, the mask back in place. Miranda always was half goddess, half hell, equal parts strength and darkness. A hand caresses your cheek. “Well,” she clicks her tongue, role in place. “You sound almost convincing there. I accept your apology, but you’re punishments aren’t done. Stand up.”</p><p>You climb off the bed gingerly, legs feeling like jelly. Mercifully, Miranda lowers the strength of the vibrator, reeling you back in from the edge. It’s not release, but it’s not that painful, teetering place just before it either. Every pass of her fingertips ghost over you lower back, tracing the curve of your ass with touches that barely land.</p><p>(you wouldn’t be surprised if she took a photo later, you are surprised at how okay you are with that)</p><p>“Hmmm,” that lilt, the light tones filling the room like thunderous applause. “I’d say you’d learnt your lesson, but you really hurt my feelings earlier. I think you should make it up to me. Turn around.”</p><p>You comply. Miranda slides black lace down her legs, sitting on the edge of the bed, on foot up on the ottoman without a care in the world. She beckons you forward with two fingers.</p><p>“Come here,” she whispers, tangling her fingers in her hair and pulling you forward. “Feast.”</p><p>You dive into her cunt like you’d been starved of it. You’re nose deep in her clit, lapping through her folds like it’s your last meal. You dip inside her, quickly, just for a taste at the source, and then focus on her clit. One hand comes down to your head, fisting in your hair, keeping you stationary. There’s a moan from above you, strangled and hoarse, swallowed in the back of her throat. Glancing up, you see that her bottom lip is caught between her teeth in an attempt to let you know how well you’re truly doing.</p><p>The tip of your tongue trails down, messily trying to pull those noises out of her again. You feel an intense spike in the vibrations deep within you. You cry out, drawing your mouth away from Miranda, but she drags you right back.</p><p>“Oh no, don’t you dare. You’re going to eat me until I’m done.”</p><p>Obediently, you bring your mouth back to her, focusing on her clit. Your fingers join you this time, eager to bring her to release so you can <em>finally</em> reach your own. The first touch of her is so wet and so warm and you moan directly into her cunt, pulling an echoing moan from deep in Miranda’s throat. You press further, a single finger sliding up her thighs, a second one joining it shortly. Then a third. You slide them into her.</p><p>Miranda’s finger in her hair get stronger, pulling you closer and closer until you’re overcome with the smell of her, sweet and musky, her taste bursting across your tongue. You can feel yourself clenching and rolling against the vibrator. It only spurs you on, making your eat her out more voraciously until you can tell she’s getting close.</p><p>“Right there.” Her hands get tighter, the grasp on your hair verging on painful. “Yes, yes, <em>yes</em>.”</p><p>Her breathy moans turned into silent screams, her head thrown back and fingers clamping around you as she writhes. Looking up, her face awash with ecstasy, lost somewhere in wild abandon between this realm and the next, you feel a since of pride. <em>You</em> did that, <em>you</em> made her feel that good. Even after acting up, <em>you</em> managed to give her such a thrill.</p><p>“Good job,” she says, grinning down at you, far too ferocious with far too many teeth. Her hand comes down to rest under your chin, thumb running across your cheek, possessive. “Get up here.”</p><p>You get back to your feet, shaking after being on your knees for so long and still riding the edge of your orgasm, but manage to crawl up the bed to the abundance of pillows, falling back into them. Here, you’re adrift, eyes taking in the beauty of the woman you love, the woman who owns you so completely, but whose mercy you’re still under.</p><p>It’s frustrating, but soon enough she’s turning her attention back to you.</p><p>Miranda taps a finger against her chin. “I wonder how long it will take you?” She crawls the same path up the bed as you, hovering between your spread legs like a predator ready to pounce. “What will it take? The first touch or my fingers?” Her grin widened. “Or would it be my mouth?” She wastes no time, latching onto your neck, nibbling across your collarbone. Her fingers run down your stomach to your cunt. Quickly, you can feel it become too much, too intense, the pleasure bordering pain. There’s spots dancing at the corners of your vision and your breathing is laboured. Something inside you explodes, bursts, and all you can do is nod and breathe. Everything else fades away besides Miranda’s fingers, Miranda’s eyes, <em>Miranda</em>.</p><p>“Come back to me,” she says, softly. You’re pleasantly sore in the most delicious of ways. You roll over, noticing the vibrator on the side of the bed. “Come back to me.”</p><p>You mutter something unintelligible and bury yourself in her shoulder, fighting off the edges of exhaustion. Miranda laughs quietly and pushes away, grabbing you as if you weigh nothing. “Not today, come on. Let’s get cleaned up.” She drags you into the shower, devouring you in soft kisses and gentle touches while she rinses your hair, washes off your skin. She rubs Arnica into the welts on your ass and half carries you back to bed.</p><p>“Was that too much?” She asks afterwards, all quiet and soft and caring.</p><p>“No,” you whisper. “That was perfect.”</p>
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